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Friday, October 18, 2013

Three in the Morning

Like a panther, I slink my
two-hundred fifty pounds of taut, well-toned cellulose along the dark
hallway.Even the slightest noise
may rouse suspicion and lead to my untimely demise.My wife is, after all, a light sleeper.She was expecting me home from the bar
hours ago, but I couldn't call her and tell her I'd be late; I left my cell
phone at home.Of course, John's
phone was dead, and the last time I saw a pay phone it was on display at a New
York art museum.So all that's
left for me is to spend 15 minutes creeping past dusty memories hanging on the
wall towards my goal: the door.

BONG.BONG.BONG.

I
nearly jump out of my skin as the tell-tale grandfather clock on the other end
of the hallway lets the world know just how late I am getting home. A brief pause at the door gives me time
to take a deep, silent breath and calm my nerves before turning the
handle.I have to be patient, to
take my time, perhaps even hours.A gentle push, hardly more than a nudge, really, and the door gradually
opens to the blackness beyond.

Creeeeaaaak!

Oh God, that door needs oil.I wait, poised, listening for any
movement.All I can hear is my own
heart pounding in my chest.Then I
move.Every step must be carefully
placed.First the toes.Test the ground.Press.Press harder.Shift my weight.Creak!I duck, but no blow comes.The next step.Creak.Creak.Creak.Lord, even the curtains are creaking.Now if only I can slip into bed, I'll
be home free.I can just claim I'd
been there since-

Caught in headlights."I, uh…I was at the bar.John was there.I meant to
call-"

"Sure you were.You know it closed an hour ago,"
she says.

"Is it really that late?I guess we lost track of time talking."I have to act nonchalant, like
nothing's wrong.I pull off my
shirt and pants and crawl into bed beside my wife.

"Remember, we have to get up
for church tomorrow," she says and leans over to kiss me.Instead, she sniffs my breath."At the bar, huh?You don't smell like you've been
drinking."

"What?Well, I stopped early.I mean, I had to drive home."

"And if I call the bar,
they'll say you were there, right?"

"Uh, sure, I guess they
will."

That look.She knows something's up."Then how did you pay for it if
you left you wallet here?"It's a trap!She pulls my
wallet out from her cleavage.How
long did she have it in there?

"My wallet?" I ask,
patting my side as if I still had on pants, despite that fact that it's right
there in front of me.Crap."I didn't.Well, I… I ran into an old friend the
other day.Sharon, that girl I
dated in college.I was at her
place."

"Sharon?You don't expect me to believe that, do
you?You were at John's place,
weren't you?You were having a LAN
party again."

"No!Of course not!"

"It's written all over your
face.You were playing that Diablo
game again, weren't you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you brought your
laptop."

"No, I, I was having a torrid
affair with Sharon."

"Oh please.No lipstick, no perfume…is that Cheeto powder on your
cheek?You know I'm going to have
to confiscate your laptop for a week," she says.